


Old

by WarriorOmen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Andy POV - Freeform, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hospitals, Immortal family, Mortal Andy, Post-Movie, Reflection, Self-Reflection, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen
Summary: Andy is just so goddamnedold.. Maybe it's not as sad as it sounds.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Old

**Author's Note:**

> I have wanted to do an Andy POV fic, so I did. Quynh and Booker are mentioned, but I didn't put them in the character tags as they don't make major appearances. 
> 
> Joe and Nicky are together, obviously, but I didn't use the relationship tag as it isn't the fics focus. But all follows canon, so don't worry. ^^
> 
> Come scream with me on [Tumblr](https://coffeebeannate.tumblr.com/) if that is your thing.
> 
> Self beta'd. I also debated between G and T for the rating, but since there's a bit of swearing I went with T. I can adjust if necessary.

Old.

_Old_

**Old**

_**So motherfucking old.** _

Someone is calling out to her, her hearing and senses long fine-tuned to _knowing_. It’s Nicky- she can easily pretend she can’t hear him, he knows when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, after all.

She’s being petty, and she knows it’s unfair. That the nearly untouched plate and nights spent not sleeping gives them reason to be at her. But facing them with that fact feels about as ideal as jumping into a flaming volcano right about now. _They’re just worried._ It makes her stomach turn, sour and vicious. Venom in the gut, acid in the heart.

Said volcano would be kinder.

"Boss, come on.”

Joe now. Fuck. Were they rotating? They were probably rotating. Seeing which one of them could get her to come out of her self-inflicted mopery. Something she knows has them alarmed. She’s not one to pout. Less so one to mediate. Or sulk.

Something hits the back of her head. High velocity. Well executed throw. It bounces off the back of her skull, making her itch to raise her hand to rub at the spot as the offensive object thuds to the ground near her boot, soft, slightly squishy.

The fuck is that?

"It’s a stress ball.” Nile answers for her, without asking. _Fuckers were definitely rotating._ “Very popular little things, still more effective than fidget spinners, no matter what the media said.

Andy is about to ask what the fuck a fidget spinner is, but stays silent, accepting the long line of Nile’s approaching form at her side, watching her bend to pick the thing up and squeeze it once in her palm. The object appearing to nearly disintegrate before popping back to life. Round and blue.

"You’re supposed to squeeze it.” Nile explains. “Back and forth, supposed to relax the muscles, re-center the mind. Calm you. Lots of shapes, sizes.”

Andy’s listening, she is. There is something sort of fascinating about the way Nile’s fingers and palm distort and squeeze the thing out of proportion before it comes back to life. Repetitive motions. Probably what makes it calming. Grounding.

Nile tips her hand over, lets the thing drop straight into Andy’s lap, where it sits. Small, convenient. Mocking.

Feeling eyes on her, (and not just Nile’s-knowing that Nicky and Joe aren’t far), she picks it up. It’s light in her hand but solid. So shiny she can nearly see her reflection in it.

She squeezes. It isn’t the worst thing she’s felt in her hand, certainly not terrible. Little calm is brought, but there is a security to it she appreciates.

She’s still holding it, maybe has been for several moments when Nicky and Joe work their way out of hiding. Joe’s hand a comforting, solid weight on the back of her neck, Nicky’s hovering a sturdy grounding that forces her eyes closed, her breathing to slow.

Two years. Two very long, very strange years. Being mortal again was well, jarring. They’ve only done short missions since, and she had a cold a month ago that was both confusing and infuriating. _A fucking cold._ But after not feeling congested for centuries, it had been.. _peculiar_

At first, they’d separated for some months. Nicky and Joe needed time away, Andy didn’t know what to do with herself and took to training Nile with as much determination and enthusiasm as she could muster, things helped along by Nile being such a fast learner. By the time they’d all regrouped, Nile was well along, adapting faster than Andy could have anticipated. Though none of them were quite sure how to meet one another on a mental level.

Nile missed her family, still. There was little any of them could do for that. (Though she had suspicions that Nicky and Joe were _plotting_ some way for Nile to see them, despite Copley having set up the papers.) She’d not yet asked. But she knew both of them more than well enough to know when they were up to something. If Nile had her own suspicions, she’d not said so.

Well, yet.

At least Copley’s mysterious abilities gave them better safe houses. Places with running water that didn’t take hours to heat. Central heating too, modern amenities like wifi and the like, and walls that didn’t peal or crumble and crack.

One of those was a long-term stay hotel in Germany, where they were now. They’d come off a fairly basic mission a few days ago, and Andy had been unfathomably moody since a deep gash on her right knee was taking it’s very sweet time to get its shit together.

Which..may have been the current cause of tonight’s balcony mope fest. Who could say.

She can feel the tight bandage wrapped around it now, secured beneath the well-worn black jeans. A tiny little reminder, a curse of her inefficiency.

“You’ve stopped squeezing.” Nile interrupting her internal monologue again, pointing to the very much forgotten stress ball sitting in her palm.

She knows they’re waiting. Waiting for her to say something. Anything. Do anything at all. She _can’t_. She doesn’t know what to say. What to tell. How to guide. Reassure. There’s just nothing. No words that fit. No sounds that articulate. Hell, even _she_ doesn’t know how she feels. Everything hollow, empty. Heavy.

. 

She’s being moved. She’s not aware she’s being moved until she feels herself hitting the balcony floor, only really brought back by the sharp, stabbing pain that radiates through her knee, and everyone freezing up, Joe staring at her in wide-eyed alarm. One of his hands gripping at her arm, the other her back, stock-still and frozen mid-guide.

It’s taken them all by surprise, and, hating herself immensely, Andy shakes, hissing through clenched teeth to silence Joe’s already desperate apologies.

"I’m sorry, I wasn’t, the rain it’s, you’ll-“

”Joe..no it’s fine.” The pains already fading, and when had it even begun raining?

”Come on, we’ll try again.” Nicky interrupts them both. Sturdy, ever practical Nicky.

”I’m sorry. I had asked you, but you were not..you weren’t responding, Boss.” Joe’s hands still gentle, as if she’d fall the second he let go.

”It’s fine. Joe, it’s fine, stop, alright?” Because she hates this. Hates every inch of this. She’d escape right this second if she knew they’d let her. But they won’t and she’s meant to accept the dual grip now, Nicky bracing her other side, Nile still holding the door open. The rain Joe mentioned and that she’d not even acknowledge now coming down steadily.

With the two of them getting her inside, she doesn’t even notice Nile stepping back from her door holding to snag the stress ball.

Angry, defeated and unhappy, she lets herself be guided back into the hotel room, letting them fuss. Nile disappearing into the bedroom to get her a change of clothes. Nicky wandering into the bathroom to find the med kit. Her knee is aching now, aggressive and throbbing, and she see’s Joe’s concern when she bites her cheek, all but ripping her boots off and sending them across the room. Even more irritated when Joe simply catches them in each hand before they can make that satisfying thud into the wall.

“I was counting on that thud.” She mutters, working on her jeans and getting a stupid smirk in return. Stupidly exhausted by the time she gets the jeans off. Which Joe lets her toss this time. They don’t thud, but it’s still satisfying. Joe helps her sink back into the couch, getting her leg extended and braced on the ottoman, the bandaging tense and dark around her knee.

Nicky has returned, as has Nile, Andy fixating the painkiller bottle with the best look of sheer reproach she can muster, Nile working the bandaging, all of them hissing at the smell.

”I told you this should have stitches.” Nile muttered, frowning down at the gash, “It could be infected, you could have tetanus or something, we should really-“

”It’s fine.” Andy waved off, letting her head dip back to stare up at the ceiling. What cannot be seen cannot be felt, after all.

”No, I really do not think it is.” Nicky agreed, “It looks..pretty bad.” Andy huffs, lifting her head back up to look at the gloriously molted mess of her own knee, nose wrinkling. And they may have a slight point.

”Andy..please.” Joe hovering near her shoulder, staring with the others. His voice sends her straight back, that familiar acidic clawing in her stomach threatening. Maybe she doesn’t want to. Maybe she’d be just fine like this, thank you very much. But..not them. Not them. Not her family. 

Goddamnit.

"What do we have to do?”

”I got it.” Nile already working her cellphone.

Andy does not have tetanus, according to the doctors who work in the white and blue building of sterile and frightening. Andy is very lucky she does not have tetanus, they say. Andy does not have to stay over night, because the nice thick braid of stitches should do well. Andy could probably do to eat more, drink less and a whole shit load of other crap she mostly tunes out. Just give her back to the others and send her away. This place makes her skin crawl. It’s so similar to Merrick’s lab. She’s glad Nicky and Joe are safely tucked away in the waiting room. Distracted.

Nile’s the one who stayed with her. Mostly silent and sending ‘I told you so’ eyes at her as the doctor and nurses work around. By the time she’s released, there is no pain and a very delightful little buzzing in her ears, making her hazy and unstable.

Nile’s grip is strong, which is good because the world looks like it’s been tilted completely sideways. Fascinating.

Andy doesn’t recall the trip back to the hotel, recalls very little until she wakes back up in low light and feeling gloriously overheated. Centuries of practice have her alert directly upon waking. But she feels incredibly sluggish this time around. Unsteady. There’s no pain, but there’s a heaviness in her limbs and an incoherence that has her confused. Forcing her eyes to adjust to take in the surrounding hotel room area.

The suite had separate bedrooms, but she’s clearly on the couch, knee raised up on pillows, resting on the ottoman, her other leg alongside of it. Someone had shoved a pillow behind her back, keeping her propped, one of the heavy bed duvets covering her. Nile had given her sweatpants before the hospital, and they do admittedly feel nicer to wake up in than the jeans.

Nile is sleeping on the same couch, curled in the fetal position, and facing outward, sharing the same duvet. A mess of pillows at the floor tells her that Nicky and Joe are there, heads flush the couches front. It should be ridiculous, especially since they all have beds. But someone (all of them) clearly made the executive decision to create what Andy was most familiar with. Their nest. So that they could all check on her at intervals. Or keep her safe with presence. Even in the dark, still slightly dopey from painkillers, the acidic pang in her stomach settles immediately. Softens. It’s so achingly familiar to her. Their oldest methods. So old they pre-date all this. Go straight back to when she and Quynh would sleep anywhere they could. Draped, curled. Anyway possible. Bodily warmth and security keeping them safe.

Ah, there’s that ache, fresh and new. Not that it ever faded. Quynh. Her hand instantly finds the pendant around her neck, stroking it, forcing her breathing to slow.

Would she see her again? When she did die? Did mortality bring her back? Maybe if she was a spirit, she’d find her. No longer confined to a mortal body. Maybe from above, the lands, or maybe..

Fuck. She can’t even think of it. Can’t even come to a conclusion that doesn’t twist her gut to shreds.

She never forgot. Never let go. Memories faded. It was inevitable that they do. Her original family, the first mortal family beyond a distant fragment with centuries passed. The land faded from existence thousands of years ago. Who even knew what it had molded into these days? But Quynh. Memory like a brand. Fuck she missed her. There was no decade, no century that took that pain away.

So old. She got so old. So impossibly, endlessly old. Transitions, changes. Adaptations. Constants without there being consistency. Booker…

Fucking _Booker._

There’s no way to dwell on that. Well there’s ways but she can’t. That acidic crawling that had just started to fade threatens back with a vengeance. Sends her breathing into a sharp, erratic cadence and-

There’s a hand against her ankle, and she doesn’t jump. Nicky’s the lightest sleeper of them all. He squeezes and there’s questions.

"I’m fine.” She says, in Italian because she knows he just woke up. Makes no move to dislodge him. Because they’re safe. And it’s good to be reminded. “S’okay..just.”

The hand flexes, squeezes, and releases. She sighs, and falls back to sleep.

For over a week, they do nothing. Nile introduces them to many movies, many videos on the internet. They play board games and have too much to eat and take too many naps. Nicky and Joe entertain with stories that Andy knows have some casual embellishments added in, and she contributes where she feels it’s necessary. By the time Andy’s knee is healed, there’s but a little scar that reminds. It doesn’t bother her. It’s strangely grounding, almost.

They go out, wandering streets and towns for hours. It is nearly evening when they start to slow, all of them getting hungry, thinking vaguely about dinner and where to go from here. Nile gleefully showing Joe some painting in a shop window and the two of them picking the finer details of the work apart, Nicky hovering near her side as they watch them.

“Such fussing.” Nicky says, fondly. “Art is in the eye of the beholder, they both know this.”

Andy’s response is the growling of her stomach, making Nicky snort, “Well, not quite that bad.”

“Depends, maybe _this_ beholders eye says that it is that bad. Trust your gut.”

She knows Nicky is deflecting. He wants to ask, but he knows better than to pry. She knows neither he nor Joe have seen her like this since they rescued her after Quynh, and the memory of that is weighing on them all equally. If she had an answer, she’d give it. But she doesn’t and it’s rotten and awful and she hates seeing them worried but what can she say? What can she do? At least in the past she could just wander away and do something stupidly impulsive. Denying that her head is screaming and replacing it with the only temporary silence they knew.

Instead, she shoves him. A solid hand at his back that clearly startles him, sends him nearly headlong into Nile and Joe, delighting in the surprised laugh. “Tell the art critics I’m fuckin’ hungry.”

They feed her shortly after, and it is well dark by the time dinner is clearing up, sitting with the final scrapings of food and on a second drink, conversation light and easy. Joe bumps her shoulder, and she knows it’s not an accident. He’s checking in, and she smiles back, slow, firm. But assured.

”How long do you think Copley will let us have off?” Nile asks, sipping at the last bit of her own drink, something that smells stronger than it looks. “Been a while now, yeah?”

Joe shrugs, looking up at her, “Depends, we’ve gone months, sometimes years not really doing anything major. Could be longer than we’d think it.”

Nicky’s poking very efficiently at his plate, a little lost in thought, brow scrunched and face tight. Andy moves her own leg to the side so Joe can tap his ankle with his foot, bringing him back.

”Care to share?” He prompts, eyes fixated and solid, Nicky shaking his head, blinking. “World’s new..jobs are new, right? Could do something different.”

”Different how?” Nile asks, intrigued.

”Humanitarian, maybe? We’ve done it before.”

”Plenty of times.” Joe points out, bottom of his fork pressing into his chin, “Could do again, see what’s out there. What needs to be done.”

Andy listens. After all, Nicky has a point. They had done it plenty of times before. It was one of their preferences.

Later, when it’s night and Andy is making sure they’re all asleep, she finds herself back out on the balcony. But unlike before, her knee isn’t aching, head not so far away, dutifully taking her final painkiller. Just as instructed, as promised.

The wind is chilly without being oppressive. Knowing that lurking back in the room is peace, security. Love.

She’s lived for so goddamned long. She’s so goodamned old. She feels it now. She’s tired. There’s a weight there, different from the one she’d thougth she’d felt before. Mental and physical, intertwined. But there is light, there is promise and hope. Old ghosts hang in the back, new ones hover in the distance. It’ll never be easy. It never has been easy. But she has this. She has them.

Head bent, fingers clasping her necklace and family waiting, she breathes, low, steady, nose to pendant. Promising.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, there is fic borne of feels. I've been holding back on Andy's POV a bit as I really do not think I could ever do her character justice but I feel this way about all the characters cos they're so well written, but I wanted to so I tried.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
